My Smile
by truly unruly
Summary: Oneshot. There are times when a child just needs to remember that there is no need to grow up too quickly. But sometimes, she needs a friend to remind her. FutureFic. Sequel to "My Sunlight".


**I've been toying with the idea of a sequel for **_**My Sunlight **_**for a while – mostly because I was so happy with the response to it ;) – but I got some plot bunnies today and decided to stick with them and write this. It would be better to read **_**My Sunlight **_**first, just so you understand what's going you, but I think that, for those that have read it or can't be bothered, this will give you the basic gist of what happened. :D This won't be written in the same style as **_**My Sunlight**_**, instead in my normal one, but hopefully, it'll still be alright. :)**

**Title: **My Smile

**Warnings: **This is mostly told from the point of view of Jennifer Dylan, in the aftermath of her brother's conviction, so some swearing, and some points of views that may not be correct in canon but will be what she thinks. Jenny doesn't know the truth about some of her family's actions (for example, Jordan's flirting) so she may think some things that are untrue, but you have to consider that she doesn't fully understand. Also, mentions of Jack/Isabella, statutory rape, and hints heavily at Sam/Jenny.

* * *

_My Smile_

Sunlight is overrated.

Of course, it has _some _advantages – like, you know, giving us _life_ – but, given the option, Jennifer would pick the waxy white glow of the moon any day. With the moon comes the night sky, a black blanket over the horizon … a clean slate. When the black sky fades, a new day begins.

However, the moon is a long way away from setting. It's only just risen, and Jennifer has taken the opportunity to sit leisurely on the window sill in the bathroom and watch it grow, sucking occasionally on the cigarette in her hand. She's never smoked before, but Cory at school was giving them out, and wasn't life about trying new things anyway? Plus, concentrating on the scratch of her throat and the burn of the smoke makes her stop thinking, and she doesn't _want _to think right now.

Has it really been six months? Six months, since she was roused from her bed by her panic-stricken mother and told that her brother was arrested? Six months, since life as she knew it ended?

Jennifer leans her head back against the window frame, and dangles a leg out of the open window. The drop is steep – after all, she lives on the second to top floor of an apartment building – and she surveys the street below with disinterest. The people look like ants from up here, the cars like the building blocks she played with as a child. For a moment, she feels like the biggest person in the world. For a moment, she knows what God feels like.

Or maybe the smoke's getting to her head.

Because she's _not _God, and never _will _be God. If she were God, she wouldn't be chin-deep in such shit, right? God was omnipotent, an ethereal being that knew right and wrong, knew who was nice and who was naughty. She was just a lonely teenage girl, hanging out of the bathroom window because if her father finds out, he'll go crazy. She's the _problem child_, who everyone is sure will just fuck up her life, like her brother did.

Jenny gulps and pushes herself away from the window. She's scared now, because for a split second there, she was considering letting herself pitch forward, out the window and onto the asphalt. She swallows, pinches the end of the cigarette, throws it out the window instead of herself. She's not trying _that_ again. She checks the time – just to see if they've left yet – because she doesn't want to go out and have to wait with them. Instead, she perches on the edge of the bathtub, wincing at the icy hardness, and tilts her head back. She sighs.

Outside, she hears the unmistakable click of heels as her mother tries on her new shoes. Somebody says something (_Perry, what do you think of these shoes?_) and somebody else groans (_Jordan, do I look like I _care _what your shoes look like?_). The faucet behind her drips. _So many sounds_. But not enough, because without her cigarette, she isn't distracted enough. Her mind wanders, ending up inevitably on the events of the last six months. She jerks forward, shaking her head violently, before shooting her hand out to grab the closest thing to her … which happens to be one of the rubber ducks of her youth.

She can still remember the games she used to play with these ducks. There were four of them: Daddy Duck, Mommy Duck, Big Brother Duck and Baby Duck. But over time, more characters were added to these little skits – there was the big, hunky Shampoo Bottle, who Mommy Duck shamelessly came onto. There was soft and sensitive Mr. Sponge, who Daddy Duck tormented; despite the fact that _everyone _knew he loved him. There was the skinny Toothbrush, who at some point began commanding all of Big Brother Duck's attention. And then, Big Brother Duck was banished to the bottom of the tub, because he fell in love with the Toothbrush. Thus, Baby Duck was left all on her own.

What a sweet little story. _I should send it to Disney_, Jennifer thinks cynically, turning Daddy Duck over in her hand. In her mind's eye, Daddy Duck ruffles his feathers and frowns up at her, twitching his beak as if he can smell the smoke still clinging to her. For a moment, he looks uncannily like her father, and when her father's voice really does call through the bathroom door, Jennifer jumps, and Daddy Duck falls from her hand in a flurry of feathers and quacks. Then, he hits the bottom, and he isn't real anymore. He's just a rubber duck.

"Jenny?" Daddy repeats, knocking on the door, "Jenny, open up."

Obediently, Jennifer stands and brushes herself off, quickly sniffing her shirt. She can't smell anything, but she has a feeling Daddy will know anyway. To be truthful, she doesn't care. She opens the door and regards her father with raised eyebrows.

"Your mom and I are leaving now."

"Okay."

There is an awkward silence as father and daughter square off, eyes suspicious. He wants to say something (that much is obvious), but whatever it is must be too heartfelt. God forbid that Percival Cox actually do something that means he'll be emotionally open with another human being, even his fucking _daughter_.

She can remember when she used to look up to him as a hero. He was her _daddy_, the man who kissed her scraped knees, and stole the broccoli off of her plate when her mom wasn't looking. He protected her, he supported her, he was _her _hero. Then, Jackie went away, and her father fell down the bathtub and lost all his feathers and quacks. Then, he hit the bottom, and he wasn't a hero anyway. He was just a rubber duck. Just a _human_.

"Don't forget your medication," he tells her, and she nods. Then, he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, and for a minute, Jennifer just wants to hold onto him and cry and let him protect her and bandage her up again.

But this time, his knee is just as scraped as hers.

"We'll be back before midnight," he tells her, and she releases him. He smiles down at her; she doesn't smile back. With a sad, disappointed look on his face, he turns to address her mother, and seconds later, Jennifer is alone in the doorway, watching the elevator doors close behind her parents.

This is the first time she's been left alone in _months_, and suddenly, she feels … vulnerable. She hugs herself and retreats into the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Six months ago, Jackie would have been here to keep her company. Or she could have invited someone to stay with her. Now, there's no one. Well, who wants to be friends with the convict's sister, right? Who wants to be friends with the girl who is _obviously _going to fuck-up next, right?

_Knock, knock, knock-knock._

The knock sends a chill up her spine, and she spins around so quickly, she feels dizzy. Only one person knows that knock, other than herself, and she knows this because he swore he would never show anyone in his whole life as they made it up behind the nurse's station of Sacred Heart. But there's no _way _he would be here. She's hasn't spoken to him in two months.

Nevertheless, she inches closer to the door, and then pulls it open in one swift stroke.

"Hi, JD."

He's taller than the last time she saw him – and his hair, exactly like his father's, is gelled up. The scattering of freckles across his button nose has disappeared now, but the glint in his blue eyes is unmistakable.

"Hi, Sam."

She tucks a lock of reddish-brown hair behind her ear, unsure of what to say. Why Sam Dorian is standing on her threshold, a _pizza box _held out in front of him, she doesn't know, but he seems so much like a stranger that she daren't ask him.

"Can I come in, or do you wanna eat this here?"

A huge childish grin stretches over his face, and Jennifer isn't sure whether to kill him or kiss. _He _can smile, sure; _he _can randomly show up with pizza, that's his choice; but what the hell did _she _have to smile about?

"What are you doing here?" she demands, "Shouldn't you be with your family?"

Part of her is envious for that, and she's sure to let him know that. She can barely hold onto the tattered remains of her family, while he has two to take his pick of. Yet, still, he's _here_.

"Well, Mom and Sean are still up in Aspen with the boys," he replies, as if she should already know that, "And tonight's _Scrabble night_ with Dad and Elliot – and I already _know _Maggie's gonna win that. So I figured I could ditch them and come see you."

"And who do _they _think you're seeing?"

His grin falters, and then falls completely, "Izzy."

_Ah_. Jennifer's eyes narrow at the boy in front of her and she shakes her head disapprovingly, "They don't want you to see me. They hate me, Sam."

"That's not true," Sam says softly, "They just … don't know how to deal with this."

"_Well_, I'm sympathetic, of course," she snaps wryly, "I mean, they've had to sit through the _agonizing _experience of watching something that has _nothing _to do with him, haven't they? I mean, come on, Sam, what the _hell _do they have to _deal with_, hmm?"

"Jenny, you know what I mean," he interrupts, his eyes flashing. Her head lowers in shame and anger. She thinks about the family of ducks falling to the bottom of the tub, while Mr. Sponge silently watched on, completely unaffected.

"Maybe you should go, Sam," she whispers, and moves to the door.

"_No._"

The sudden word, in a tone completely unfamiliar to Sam's voice, startles Jennifer and she looks up, "What?"

Sam hesitates, before awkwardly clearly his throat and declaring, "I _know _what's happened is terrible and … and I can't begin to understand. But just because this has happened doesn't mean you have to become some depressed recluse, Jen. Believe it or not, _I _still want to be with you – screw what everyone else thinks. You don't have to skulk about in here forever."

Jennifer just stares at him, in utter shock, while Sam jiggles the box temptingly, "Come on, this damn thing cost twenty bucks, Jenny. Care to make it worth my while?"

A few more seconds passed, before an unrecognizable expression passed onto Jennifer's face, and she stepped aside, "Come on in, Sammy."

With a triumphant smirk, Sam enters the apartment like a hero, and the unfamiliar expression grows. Ten minutes later, when her face starts to ache, Jennifer realizes that it isn't such a new expression after all. She's _smiling_.

For the rest of the evening, Jennifer doesn't worry, or skulk, or return to the family of ducks at the bottom of the tub. She doesn't even think.

She just … _smiles_.

* * *

**The ending probably was really disjointed and awful, right? GAH. I just wanted a slightly lighter ending than the rest of the story, and its prequel. I know it wasn't as good as the original, but I still hope it was acceptable. Please review, and flames **_**will **_**still make me cry. Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, and Maggie is the name I gave JD and Elliot's daughter. Call me crazy, but I find that name somehow cute. :D I also picture Sean and Kim as having two kids of their own. I just have their whole futures mapped out! xD**


End file.
